The Danger of Forgetting
by ProcrastinatingPalindrome
Summary: Russia tries to be kind. Lithuania prefers him to be cruel. Russia/Lithuania


"I hate to have to punish you. You know that, don't you? It hurts me to do this."

Those words again, and that large, calloused hand touching his shoulder with something that could almost be called tenderness, and then the alcohol-soaked rag is rubbed lightly across the raw welts on his back and his mind goes white with pain.

"You shouldn't scream so loud. You might wake up Latvia and Estonia. It's very late, you know? Look, the moon's out already. It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Lithuania manages to turn his head toward the window. It's difficult to get a good look from where he's lying on the floor, but when he lifts his head a bit he can see a ball the color of milk floating in the sky. It's not that pretty. It's just another full moon; he's seen thousands of them over the years. He can't bring himself to care about this one, but he tries to open his mouth and agree that yes, it's beautiful. The damp rag brushes his back again before he can say it and his words die into a painful hiss.

"Hush now, we'll be done soon. We have to clean these cuts, don't we? Wouldn't it be sad if they got infected?"

That hand is rubbing a slow circle on his shoulder again, carefully avoiding the open wounds just inches below his icy fingers. It's not fair. It's not fair. He hates when Russia does this. It isn't fair at all.

It's much better when he simply leaves afterward. He often does. The blows just stop without warning, the whip falls to the floor and he's gone. Just like that, without a word, without even glancing back. And then Lithuania lies on the floor until Estonia or Latvia comes to find him and he hates and hates until it feels like something in him will shatter. It's the easiest thing in the world to hate Russia then, when the man isn't there and Lithuania is in too much pain to even sit up on his own.

Sometimes there's a reason for the punishment. Sometimes Lithuania tries to rebel, sometimes he breaks one of the unwritten laws Russia laid down, sometimes he breaks one of the written laws. Sometimes he does nothing at all, but is punished anyway for some imagined threat in Russia's head. Whether or not he _is_ guilty of whatever he's being accused of doesn't matter that much; if Russia thinks he is then that's enough. But in the end, the reason for the punishment doesn't matter much either, for either of them.

"Here, sit up a little, we can bandage it up now."

Those hand hands are pulling him up now, steadying him, letting him lean against the larger body before him. The utter lack of warmth is jarring; he doesn't know if he'll ever get used to that. He has to grind his teeth to keep silent as the bandages are wrapped over the sensitive skin, and hangs on to Russia's coat just to stay upright. The larger country's mouth is terribly close to Lithuania's ear, and he can hear him humming something softly. Maybe it's an old folk song, maybe it's a lullaby. Maybe it's not even a real song at all, but it's sweet and sad all the same. Lithuania tries to let the throbbing pain in his back fill up his mind and block out the tune.

Estonia and Latvia and even Poland don't think he's capable of hating anyone, that he's too kind and gentle for that. They don't see him in those moments when he's left alone, when he lets himself burn and rage at what Russia does to him. In that dark, empty room he builds Russia up to be a monster that smiles and laughs while Lithuania screams and bleeds. He's never been able to work up the courage to turn around and look at Russia's face during the punishment, but he know deep down that the man wouldn't be smiling. Russia is a monster, but a different sort than the kind Lithuania creates in his mind. The monster he imagines doesn't care a thing for Lithuania, and he always leaves after the blows stop, every time.

But the real Russia doesn't always walk away. Sometimes he stays. Sometimes he knees down by Lithuania and apologizes again and again, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I hate to do this to you but I have to teach you, how else will you _learn_?" Sometimes he combs his thick fingers through Lithuania's hair. Sometimes he cries a little, never great heaving sobs, just a few tears and a broken voice.

But the worst is when he's kind, like he is now, cleaning the wounds he just made, touching him so delicately, whispering words of comfort, as though he truly cares for Lithuania. It's hard to not be swallowed up by his awkwardly gentle gestures. It's hard to not forget how cruel he was only moments ago. It's hard to keep hating.

"There, it's done. And I think it's going to leave scars again this time. Isn't that good? They'll be there to remind you to behave, and I won't have to do this anymore, yes? I don't want to have to hurt you anymore. It makes me so sad."

The words are frightening, but there's a kind of horrible love in the tone that makes Lithuania's eyes prick. A hand brushes the hair off his neck and Russia leans closer to press a kiss on the back of Lithuania's neck, right along his hairline. Even his lips feel cold.

It's in those moments, when he's being touched so tenderly, when Russia's voice is so kind and sad, that he could almost forgive the man. He could almost even love him, and that frightens him more than anything Russia could threaten him with.

He won't let himself love Russia. What would come out of it? He'd just sink into the same darkness Russia's falling into and they'd go down together, tangled up in each other. No, he won't end that way. That love would give him nothing. He holds on to the hate because that at least makes him stronger, and if he can't keep hating then he's afraid he _could _come to reallylove the huge, cruel, tragic man. He can stand the physical pain, but not that.

He tries to cling to the memory of the cruelty, but Russia suddenly wraps his arms around Lithuania's shoulders and pulls him into a loose hug, still careful to avoid touching the bandages. He tucks Lithuania's head under his chin, and slowly starts to rock back and forth, like Lithuania is a small child in his arms.

"Don't worry, it will all be worth it in the end. Everything will be wonderful one day."

The desperate hope in Russia's voice hurts more than the whip ever could, and as he drops his forehead down to rest against Russia's chest, Lithuania forgets to hate.

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Author Notes: No history this time. ;) I was kind of practicing writing Russia/Lithuania for another fic I'm working on, and the practice turned into it's own story, so what the hell, I figured I'd post it up. I was experimenting a bit here with the characters and whatnot, so it's maybe a little weird. Oh well.

Reviews are loved, as always.


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